Death In Venice
by Kitade Death
Summary: Fall in love in Venice. XS and smut in next chapters *thumbs up*.
1. Lost In Mare

Heeey guys, third story of the month! OKay, some may think: she's overdoing it, she won't be able to finish three of them... God no! I love XS, I love writing fanfics about XS, and more than anything I love when I see that my naughty little hands' works are loved, so please review!

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'Vooooi'

Then a huge crash. In barely one second the house's ground floor was filled with clouds of smoke and dust. The small building where our target, a lame ass mafia boss from the slum of Venice, was living in had been built with a void in its middle so the dirt quickly gained the roof. The air was so opaque one couldn't see the tip of his noise.

'We're Varia, trashes! Your time for death is now. So get on your knees and pray your god for not suffering too much.' The silver haired swordsman barked to almost one hundred people, everyone wearing black suits and with semiautomatics at their sides – though they were so taken aback by the theatrical appearance that none of them deemed that the fact of drawing out was worth thinking over. As for the shark he didn't lose one minute to slash the first man in his aiming, who had been the man closest to the hole he made into the back wall. It was only the sight of blood pouring from one of their comrade which stirred the others to pull their guns. But too late. The silverette didn't let them time to fight back when he started his breakthrough in the scuffle.

Soon there were nothing more but a silver lightning swinging, cutting, dancing, slaying in a sea of black outfits, from time to time red staining its path and sticking to its glistening. The sound of the machine guns was the phrase giving rhythm to its pace, the last cries of dying people its music's notes.

The outcome of the fight was obvious: there was no way in hell my shark would lose against a bunch of low-level scums. And fuck he liked it. His maniacal grin hadn't flattered once since he scented his trapped prey. The others were just stupid pigs he was slicing, a heap of butter easily surrendering to his sword.

That was all I saw from the same hole. I don't even know why I had to cross almost one thousand kilometers for such a mission; better things were waiting for me back in Sicilia, most of all that new first ranked booze the Marmon baby gave me before I left the mansion (how that baby could buy alcohol I didn't know, and I didn't care).

I yawned. This was getting boring. Only ten out of the hundred were still up and we were there for only five minutes. Just why the fuck did the leader of the Vongola's assassin squad have to come in that shitty _Venezia_ only to find one single trash? They only gave me the fucking reason that anyone we sent to locate him went missing after few days or practically torn to ribbons, so Varia would be the best hunter for that plague rat. Crap. I had to kick one ass or two when I'd get back home. Much ado about anything.

I pulled my X-guns at the remaining scums and shot, stopping the shark trash in his march. He frowned and turned back.

'Vooi, bossman. When people are happily doing their job…' He said while scratching the back if his head with his free hand.

'We're leaving, scum. Now.' I beckoned him to leave the pile of corpses. Losing more time in that rat hole had no meaning anymore; our target had surely fled since long.

'But isn't the guy still… Vooooi!' he yelled when I yanked his hair back for him to follow me. I didn't release it before we got out.

Shit, Venezia is one fuck of a city. First there's no fucking car in the entire place, if you want to go somewhere whether you walk, whether you take one of those stupid boat and bear the surge on the hull until you reach destination. And people. What the heck are all of those people here for? For watching a pile of boulders sinking little by little in the sea, getting stuck for hours in tiny_ caffès_' lines or ripped off by gondoliers. However people can't help but coming back to those hovels.

Night had already darkened the evening's sky. The weather was chilly. The pilot of our motor boat was standing in front of the building, waiting for us. He quickly started up the ship as he saw us coming, me leading/pulling a loud and angry shark's hair. We swiftly took sit on the rear bench before the boat moved off. The canal was tortuous and scanty, but at least that part of the floating city was void of people, only one or two boats were still drifting here and there. After about twenty minutes – twenty _long_ minutes filled with the shark's overly loud voice – we arrived at our hotel. We actually didn't stop there for so long after our arrival. I thought the job would be fast managed: go to the nest and eliminate the vermin, nothing more nothing less. It shouldn't have taken more than a half day, even having two members of the Varia on the job was a waste of staff; yet we found the way to botch it. What a pain in the ass. I mean: he, the shark trash, botched it. No way in hell could that be my fault.

The hotel was huge and luminous, the most luxurious in the city – though high class hotels weren't that numerous in the area. I crossed the wide garden and the exaggeratedly decorated hall in a bee fly and left behind the silver haired man. A sweetish receptionist was keeping him back for who knows what reason. They didn't talk for a long time though since Squalo threatened the man enough for him to shut it quickly.

'Vooi, you bitches get out!' Squalo shouted at three excessively daubed chicks in the royal suite before throwing his sword away. Crap. I surely had been as drunk as a lord when I picked them up much earlier.

'Eeeh? But don Xanxus allowed us to stay…' Two of them whined. The last one was watching placidly at a corner of the room.

'Get lost, slut.' I said before slumping into the giant throne in the middle of the room. A bottle of brandy made its way to my lips.

'So what now?' After the whores left Squalo took a sit in the opposite couch. 'We have to wait for instruction from the Vongola about the new location of the target. But what was that in the first place? Did they give us the wrong data or was that rat already aware of our plan? ...' While talking the swordsman began rummaging into piles and piles of papers covering the table in front of him, reading and writing unintelligible notes on them. What a workaholic, mostly like a book-worm when he's wearing his glasses. (_Yes_, the trash is wearing glasses, from time to time. I can't help but mock him every time he's putting them.) At any rate I could leave all the work to the shark; after all he was there for that purpose.

I didn't answer. I didn't have to. That's how we're working: the shark trash deliberating about all the details and me taking the final decision. The boss doesn't have to preoccupy himself with such triviality.

Nevertheless I was getting hungry and the shark was still soliloquizing, getting excited I didn't know why, entangling himself up in the mess he made.

'Scum. Call the room service. I want _pasta_.' I demanded after some time.

'… However I have to report to the Vongola. It's getting nowh-… Aaah? Can't you see I'm busy right now?'

'I don't care, trash. I'm hungry and I want meat.'

'Voi. Didn't you say _pasta _right before?' Squalo frowned then massaged his temple. 'Anyway they're going to deliver the diner in few minutes. I've already told them to bring something so it wouldn't take…'

A trigger's sound.

_CRASH_.

Everything surrounding us melted into fire and broken pieces. The luxurious furniture, the costly paintings, the opulent carpets and the sumptuous wallpaper, everything had been swept away by a enormous blast of hot air bringing up a wave of flames. The noise of the explosion altogether with the clatter of the wide windows had been deafening.

When I opened my eyes all I could see was a gigantic, chaotic amount of garbage – previously the pompous interior the Vongola should have to pay a fortune for (though they _would_ have to, and even more with the entire suite ravaged). Curtains and walls – or rather what was left of them – were burning; the ground was coated with layers of dust. I could hear footsteps behind the door (which miraculously was still intact), certainly the hotel's staff trying to check whether the room's occupants were still alive or if they have to call at the mortuary.

'Shiiit. They pretty did it, those dickheads.' The familiar voice said from behind a wall of smoke. Gradually a white form emerged, tottering, from a dark corner, I recognized my right-hand man. He stumbled to the previous throne behind which I was serenely sitting, unwounded, and almost collapsed at my side. A trickle of blood was trailing on his cheek, I noticed he had his metallic hand gripping hard at what I assumed was perhaps a broken arm. 'Still alive, boss?'

'Shut up, freak.' I hissed at the smirking bastard. 'What's wrong with that?' I pointed at the broken arm.

'Naah. Nothing to worry about (Fuck off. As if I was worrying about _you_.). But that's great, ain't this? Now we know how all the previous assassins got killed by our target.'

The image of the last bitch crossed my mind.

'Aah.' I swept the unsightly trail of blood on the pale skin. 'The number of pests we have to exterminate has just risen a bit. That's all.'

* * *

'Fuck it. There's no fucking way I'm gonna stay in such a slough.' I ranted at the silver head. I took another glimpse at the shanty: it was a tiny flat in the second floor of an old building in the _Venezia's_ _getto_, and consisting in only one room with one bed and one couch, the latter facing the opposite wall, one table with a stove above, and no chair. Left the front door, only a small window opening to the cobbled street below was piercing the grayish wall. No heating when outside temperature was nearing 0°. _Shit_. How the hell did things end like that?

'Vooi. Stop complaining, would you? I remind boss _you_ were the one deciding to stay in _Venezia_ and track the Prodi's head while they still believe we're dead! What's the point of playing dummy if we're to fire our cover right now?'

Che. When the fuck did I say that?

I grunted and sprawled into the bed, back facing Squalo. Holy shit. The mattress was stiff and dented. I hated that and I hated the shark for that. I was so angry I think I lost appetite. Squalo sighed behind me and went sitting on the couch.

'Well… I'm going to call the base tomorrow so for now…Good night, boss…' he said while lying down; head and a curtain of pure silver were brimming from the sofa. We still had the same Varia uniforms we were wearing in the explosion. But the flat's owner (an old Jewish who was larger than bigger) didn't make a big fuss about our late coming although it was the very first time we were meeting. It tells tales about what kind of scums could linger in the hovel.

The atmosphere was odd. I think about thirty minutes passed by like that. Me and the silver haired trash peacefully sleeping in the same room. I actually couldn't sleep a wink because of the shitty bed beneath me... Then I thought about the silverette. We were almost side by side, me and the shark, so close I just had to stretch my arm to reach him. That was absolutely stupid. The all situation was. And a waste of time. Bit by bit some kind of need was building up within me, urging me to grab at tufts of silken hair, to shove into something hot and soft…

'Hey trash, stop fidgeting like that, you're noisy.' I said as the swordsman turned up in the couch, making the springs creak.

'Voi! I'm sorry but this shit is too small for me!' He roared angrily.

'Stop being so touchy and shut the hell up.'

'_You_ are the one annoying me! Can't you fucking sleep calmly for goddamn's sake?'

'Shitty shark…'

And fuck it. I am Xanxus. I'm not meant to suppress any of my cravings. Yeah. I was right, utterly right; so was the fact that I fetched the silver haired swordsman in his couch, pulled him to the bed, undressed him without giving a fuck to his whining, which I knew would quickly become purring of satisfaction.

'Xanxus… Aan…'

I smirked. Until morning, we still had plenty of time.

'… Mm… So we won't go back before long, I think… One or two weeks, not more…' The very first thing I saw the next morning was the delightful sight of a naked, pinkish skin, and silver hair overflowing like a river everywhere around me.

Squalo was the first awake and was already on the phone with someone from Vongola or Varia, I didn't really care. He was sitting in the bed, a sheet covering his body up to his hips, leaving the rest bare. Thin limbs were glowing with the early light streaming from the window. The day was grey and cold, and so goosebumps were showing on the shark's neck. He didn't see me getting up, as he was facing the opposite side.

'Aah. They are more stupid than what I firstly thought, those blockheads… Yeah, we'll need an investigation team; we'll have to track them to their lair… Make them come here for today… Okay- Ha?' I took the phone and talked to the speaker.

'Hey, trash. I'll burn anyone who would have the guts to come here, any pretext they would give. Just try and I'll kill you.' Then threw it at the opposite side of the room.

'Voi, Xanxus, are you nuts?' The shark trash fumed but rapidly changed his expression as he looked at me.

'Scum. The others trashes are looking for trouble with me and only me. This is a private issue. I'll in person skin each one of them alive.'

After all I could combine business with pleasure, the pleasure of burning down every one of those Venetian bastards.

The shark sent me the what-the-hell-have-been-crossing-through-that-child's-mind look. Yet such questioning never interfered with his capacity to give in to each one of said child's fancies. 'Aye aye, bossman. All we have to do is to cut them, isn't it?' At his gaze I guessed the idea wasn't revolting the silver haired assassin. 'Gotcha.'

Squalo jumped out of bed and started looking for his discarded clothes. 'A good old hunt, huh?' he whistled. 'That sounds great.'

The predator's blood was boiling with excitement.

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So... This is the first chapter. I wish you've understood that Xanxus and Squalo are already lov - ahem - fucking buddies. Gradually, I'll develop their relationship until the "lovers" level. Don't burst your mind about the plot: IT IS ONLY A PRETEXT FOR FUTURE SMUT! Yes, I said it and I'm proud of it.

Oh and today's Squalo's anniversary, so BUON COMPLEANO!

Seen you next time!


	2. Time For Requie

Soooo here we go with chpter 2! God I'm so happy I've finished ONE of my exams - I'm sure I got the all thing wrong but AT LEAST I'M ALIVE!

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Death in Venice – Chapter 2

The door slammed open.

'Voi, Boss, I'm back.' The shark shouted.

'You're late, scum. And what's with all _this_?' I pointed at the giant pile of full to bursting packs the trash had thrown on the table. Hours ago he went buy some fit for human consumption food, but I didn't remember asking that _shit_.

'What? I bought some spare clothes. You don't want to wear the same Varia uniform for who knows how many days, do you?'

I shifted on the couch. 'Stupid. You're only a freakish mother-hen.' Squalo's frown deepened.

'Shut up! You don't know what crap I've been going through to find them! Just eat now and leave me in peace.' He nervously hooked a silver lock behind his ear. Oh fuck it. I was starving like hell, and the shark had brought some… _Ha_?

'Trash. What the holy fuck is this?' I asked incredulously. The thing I was watching wasn't what one human being can call fare. It was much more fodder than anything else.

Fierce grey eyes were sending daggers; ruby orbs burnt them with matching ferocity. 'Hey, Boss. What's wrong now?'

I felt the great need of throwing something at the shark's head. 'This is shit. I won't eat that.'

I think back then Squalo face-palmed himself; at least he sighed with exasperation. 'Vooi. This is what you can get here so don't be so picky about food.'

That was true, though. In Venezzia's _getto_ all we could find was stacks of foodstuffs you don't know where they were coming from, or fucking kosher meat. Like hell I would eat that. We have been staying there for almost two days. Two days of hideout, eating only the same shitty area's food until nausea, trailing every little crook in order to get information about the Prodis (which were no less than the biggest _famiglia_ in the city) and then again looking for edible food to eat. Or it was rather (completely) the shark's job. For such a low-level mission I knew I didn't have to lift one little finger and leave my right-hand man to do all of the dirty work. All I heard about it was more and more grumble and endless recrimination: that the Prodi's pawns were all bunches of useless rats that were much more able to hide and run away from him than anything else. Walking – and running after someone – in crowded streets and countless dark alleys was a pain in the ass, taking care of me was a pain in the ass… Now I recall about it all I've been doing was sleeping and waiting for who knew what the silverette would get back from his hunt. And I've already said it was most of all shit.

The trash was standing in front of me, barely recovered from his two-hour non-stop searching for groceries. I looked up at him and after a second glimpse at the small packs of seeping _crocchetta_ and _galina _on the table, I grimaced.

'Throw that away or I'll drive it in your sorry ass; and go find some eligible meat, trash.'

'Xanxus, you bastard! Do you ever know how long I've been looking for only this? There isn't a shit anywhere! How do you hope me to stumble on some high ranked food in a place like this? If you don't like it, you can get your ass to go find some by yourself! I wish you good luck.'

I started delving into the shapeless meat with a fork. It was flabby and smelly. 'You know very well I won't do that.' I took a mouthful of the _crocchetta_ before spit it out, right on the shark trash's face, the rest of the pack following it. 'Scum! Are you trying to poison me with such fucking shit? I'll kill you!' I finally burst.

'Voooooi I'll kill _you_, fucker!' The trash yelled while weeping his dirtied face. 'Firstly you fucking didn't have to throw it all at me, you asshole! That's fucking gross! What am I? Some sort of fucking trash bin or what? Fuck off! ...' Next minutes were filled with trifling complaints and whining.

Che. The fuck. At that rate I was going to get nothing to eat, all of the _getto's_ cuisine inducing in me everything similar to disgust and execration. The place was shit, the food was shit, and Squalo's overly eternal bitchery was more than shit. Goddamn world, was it my fate to die from famine or gastroenteritis – and moreover as deaf as a post – in that shitty hole? Hell no I wouldn't! I wouldn't die before my time because of such a reason!

'Hey, trash' I stopped the swordsman in his blasphemous rant. 'We're getting out.'

* * *

On the contrary of what most of people believe about the _getto_, this has nothing to do with the usual idea of slum full of hovels, delinquents and graffiti, a shanty town where no mother would let her children play freely. Venezzia's getto is rather a small district filled with old, constricted houses and roads, few synagogues but many little shops, and, like everywhere in the city, suspension-bridges, although they're smaller and older.

We crossed a _piazza_, heading to the _sestiere_'s entrance, and then traversed the _Ponte_. The _getto_ wasn't that big; we barely lost ten minutes by feet to leave it; still it was principally because I was so hungry that I rushed the fastest I could for the next _venditore ambulante_ I saw who wasn't selling nor unidentified meat nor shitty vegetables. I finally found one with things like _prosciutto_ and _formaggio_ on the corner of a street. Well that was better than famine or gastroenteritis.

I jostled the line of waiting customers in front of the stand ('Get out from my way, trashes.') and then grabbed at the first roll of _mortadella_ on the stall, then a second one, then pieces of _mozzarella_ and _gorgonzola_. I didn't give a fuck to the embarrassed _venditore_ nor to the rest of the crowd which had been certainly waiting there for hours, even when they started going on me. One fat ass among the tourists particularly thundered behind my back as I gulped down my second salami. Miserable scum. I was on the point of pulling out when I heard the usual 'Vooi' far behind.

'So you've been here, Boss.' The shark said when he finally reached me. 'Don't start running away without leaving trace, that's bothersome.'

'Ha? It's your fault for being too slow. You could have stayed behind, it would have been less a nuisance for me.'

The shark was to reply something harsh but then the fat ass cut him off.

'Sorry, sir, to disturb you when you're lunching, but we've already been waiting here for quite some time, me and my family, and moreover we've been here before you! Everyone here have! (Grunting of approval from the audience) So could you, please, wait for your turn like everyone else did…?'

'Voooooi, shithead. You sure have a death wish for blabbering like that.' The shark bared his teeth and grabbed the flabby man by his collar. 'If the Boss fucking wanna eat here, he's fucking gonna eat here; and if some kind of fatty-belly dude disturb him in his lunch, be sure said fatty-belly shit won't have enough time to beg for forgiveness from his holy God before I'll rip his guts out right in front of his brats. _Comprende, voi_?'

The fat ass nodded vehemently before running away, bringing with him his shitty family. The silverette sent a 'Who's next' look to the others. It made them startle and go quiet. That was better.

'Er… _Signore_…' A very soft voice asked toward me. We both turned to the puny salesman. '_Scusa_… _Ma per il prezzo..._'

'Voi, sorry for the trouble. I'm taking charge of it.' Squalo said, doing a little movement with his head in my direction.

A quarter of an hour later we were off. I was wandering in the cobblestone road, staring with a moderate interest at the shop windows spreading all along the street, looking for a suitable place to have diner. The shark was shadowing me. It was almost 4 pm and yet the place wasn't as filled with vacationers as I thought. Maybe it was because of the cold. However some time later floods of people waving from behind me got the better of my reasoning: herds and herds of odd outfits, masks and headdresses overflowing from I didn't know where, to go I didn't care where. The outburst of colors and voices was dizzying and deafening. Fuck, I had to get out from there. I beckoned the shark to follow me in the first bar on my right. Shit, fucking weirdoes were pushing me back.

'Voi, you've never been in Venezzia before, haven't you?' The shark laughed once we'd taken a sit in the small _caffè_. The inside wasn't glorious but it was better than staying outside with those waves of weirdoes there. He ordered drinks.

'What if? Anyway I don't give a damn to that kind of stupidity.' I hissed whilst downpouring whisky in an empty glass. The silver haired man was having wine.

He stared blankly at a point at the back of the hazy room. 'I have. A long time ago before knowing you.' He yawned, stretching his arms. 'But this is over, and now I'm with you, so _cin cin_!'

I caught a glimpse of the silverette drinking greedily the red liquid. How strange for him to talk about his past. Every time he's doing that it makes me wonder how much about him was still unknown to me. I grunted.

'Shut the fuck up. Your voice is giving me a fucking headache.'

'If you don't want to have one then stop drinking that much, idiot. I'm not the one who's gonna put up with a hangover tomorrow.'

'Che. Mother-hen.'

He didn't hear my remark, so busy as he was drinking down one glass after another of wine; and he seemed quite pleased with it. Easy contented shark. Nevertheless those were actually the only moments the swordsman was almost sufferable, I mean when he's drunk off his ass. He wouldn't become quiet (Squalo, for the simple sake of our poor ears, will never ever become quiet); but at least he would stop whining and mothering everybody, and would act much more like a mere human in mere circumstances. To a certain point. That day wasn't different: the ugly frown had disappeared from his forehead, which seemed brighter than usual; he was starting making stupid jokes about the bar's visitors, laughing at his own tasteless humor, and darker pink was little by little tinting his cheeks to his ears.

'Ah ah. And then he said something like…'

I wasn't paying attention anymore to what he was chattering. I knew it was as boring as watching grass growing. My eyes were glued to the curtained windows: overly dressed men or women, one couldn't clearly distinguish from that far, were flowing again and again, and they seemed to get more and more numerous. It was bothering. My attention went back to the silver head to see that he wasn't sitting next to me anymore. I finally found him heading for the counter, probably to get some more wine.

The trash sure was tipsy. Manifestly he couldn't stand up straight, his feet making him tottering absurdly. What was more absurd was the effort he was giving to look more concentrated on the things he was doing – effort vainly ending into a childish pout.

So he was staggering in the crowd when suddenly – and how the fuck did he do that? – he crashed into one of the customer on the bar. Squalo reeled more and was two inches from sprawling on his stomach all over the floor, but said customer found it very helpful to hinder me from having one of my favorite amusements by holding back the shark from his fall. And holy shit he held him by his fucking _hip_! Just what the fuck was that? My shark was getting groped in public and right in front of me? Or I was getting paranoid because of the whisky. Or not.

The fucking bastard, as if groping a drunkard wasn't enough, took all his sweet time while chit-chatting with the stupid and desperately oblivious shark. From where I was I couldn't clearly hear what they were talking about, and reading on lips wasn't part of my specialties. Yet it didn't prevent me from getting ill from their conversation.

As I said before, Squalo, when he was drunk, was really another person who can do stuff you can't imagine the sober Squalo would do. Like at that time in the bar. Instead of bursting at the fucking bastard who bumped into him – which was what the normal silver haired man would do – he joyfully accepted the customer's apology (and with a kind of smile I swear he'd never ever showed me before). He even fucking laughed at some stupid thing that _figlio di putana_ said! They seemed to get on very well… Too well from my point of view. But at the same time I didn't want to pass as the jealous lover.

Jesus fucking Christ how long would they keep on that low comedy? The shark was supposed to get some fucking booze, not flirting with the first comer! And was it some kind of an optic illusion or were they getting closer? The bastard came nearer to the stupid shark face, enough to graze at his skin… And then I snapped. Fuck the jealous lover thing, I was angry.

In no time I wringed the Casanova's wrist. He squealed from the pain.

'Hey, scum. How far did you want to go with people's property?' I hissed at the man. Squalo was looking at me dubiously.

'Xanxus? ...' What? It was like he'd even forgotten about my presence.

'You piece of crap, don't you think you're getting out of this.' The shark stayed silenced.

I pressed harder on the twisted joint until hearing a crack then kicked the fucker's ass down before pulling at the silver mane, dragging its owner to the back door.

* * *

'Mm… Yaa-an! Xanxus!'

Once again, a drunken Squalo was something great, something that would shamelessly agree to things too much embarrassing for the clear-headed one.

Things like fucking in the toilet of a filled up restaurant, with no regard to the lewd sounds he was making or the possibility anyone else would need to use the rest room.

'Trash. You sure have guts to play with some sucker when I'm here.'

A third finger plunged into the wet and tight hole, stretching it and hitting on a soft spot. I had the shark's leg hooked under my arm and pressing against the opposite wall, his arms locked in my back. His hair was spreading out everywhere, some falling on his face, some sticking to a sweat covered back, some entangled in my hands. The tension was getting higher. Silver eyes filled with lust locked at me.

'That wasn't… You're… Ngh… that's wrong…'

The shark's back was arching against the wall. On naked thighs and shirted torso were dripping both cum and sweat from being teased again and again. His face, more flushed than before, was contorting with pleasure and need, ferric eyes darkened with lust, redden lips parted and asking, wanting for something different…

'Xanxus… Bastard, quick… Put it… in… Aa! Put it in… Damn!' _Delizioso supplica_. but I did want to hear more.

My fingers came in and out, always prodding harder and massaging the inner walls. Even after coming once, the shark was already hard and twitching, his throbbing erection longing for attention, desperate for my hand to jerk him off. Sometimes I wonder if it was only that easy to get the shark turn on (so easy that anyone like the previous looser could do it), or if that was only the fact that I was the one doing that which initiate that fervor in him. Fuck it. The answer is already obvious.

'Aan… Fuck… Mm… Ah! Stupid… Boss… Stop that…'

Pre-cum was once more leaking from his shaft's slit and soaking wet the red flesh, mixing with the previous liquid and trickling slowly on the ground.

'Humph. Sure. You love it, don't you?' I whispered in the shell of his ear as he began impaling himself on my finger, clenching and unclenching with my thrusts' rhythm. 'You love that sensation of something hard stretching you open, don't you? You're actually drooling for something bigger, hotter… How is it, every time I drive in you? Your inner-self does know it, doesn't it?'

At those words the shark twitched harder and whined louder, his head slightly tilting aside, staring at me with hunger and desire. My fingers were scissoring in the ring of muscles. Gradually, as the pressure of Squalo's flesh tightened on them, want started pooling in my pants. At last I felt the dire need to pounce on that hot body, and plunge into that firm ass to my heart's – or rather my dick's – pleasure. But I was no slave of my body's need, and I already had some plan for the shark.

'Xanxus… I'm… com…'

'As if, you damn piece of trash.' I said and, grabbing at one handful of silver hair, I tossed the proud swordsman to the ground so that he was on his knees and looking up at me.

'Vooi… What's that for?' he whimpered. 'I was fucking clo-' Without warning I silenced the swordsman by one hand. It constrained me to bow down at the shark level, sustaining myself by one elbow leaning on the door.

'Do you think I'm gonna let you come that easy? Stupid shark trash.' I muttered and stroked softly at his right cheek. 'That beautiful mouth of yours has been neglected, don't you think? Make it useful so I'll probably reconsider about letting you come or not.'

Even if he seemed dazed, Squalo did hear it right. Still on his knees and dick erected, he started unbuttoning my pants, movements a bit nervous, and gasped when he finally freed my fully standing member.

'…_Donnaccia_.' I hissed at the cold air on my skin.

Without further ado, he kissed and licked at the tip before trailing his tongue on a dilated vein, licking from the base to the head. He repeated the motion few times before adding his hand to tease the tip by pushing in one finger from time to time… And oh fuck it felt fucking good. Maybe I should get the shark drunken more often; his skills sure were feeling effects from his intoxication. It isn't that Squalo is a frigid partner – rather the contrary – it's just that he's a lot more yearning when he isn't quite aware of his surroundings. Like at that moment.

The silverette had since long quitted the licking and had started sucking me all in. I shuddered whenever I felt myself hit the back of his mouth, steadily pushing into his throat. What a blissful sensation the moist cavern was giving me. Softly I pressed on the silver head for it to take me deeper alongside with the gentle rubbing he was giving to my balls and the base of my cock. Fucking great. But it felt even better when, feeling me convulsing in him, the shark began moaning at his ignored erection. The vibrations in the bottom of his throat quickly made their way to my shaft, combining with the already tightness of his mouth.

'Trashy shark…' I grunted. I was close.

The shark was getting reckless. He was sucking faster and slanting his head to the side. It made my dick explore some new angle of Squalo's throat; at some point I had started thrusting upward in the wetness. Finding release. Quickly.

I couldn't get my eyes off of the silver beauty: his slicked lips hiding then displaying my pre-cum coated organ, his shiny, silvery mane waving wildly below, his head graciously bobbing between my thighs… Oh fuck.

'Mm… Ngh!' The shark moaned when a load of semen spurted in his throat. He tried to withdraw the fastest he could but a huge amount of it had already filled his mouth and soiled his face and hair. The fencer only gulped it down, gobbling in the process, before staring back at me, his eyes asking for his own release… Ah, that's right. I said he couldn't come yet.

'Hey, shark…' I panted 'There is some left.'

With the remaining strength in his legs, he rose a little then got going on cleaning all the white liquid on me, being sure he had wiped well my slowly limping member.

'Xanxus… Now…' he almost implored.

'Aa. I get it. But first we're going home; I can't fuck you like I want in a place like this… And don't forget washing that face, shitty shark. I'm waiting for you outside.'

* * *

The next day Squalo was blushing. He was blushing like hell. Another miracle in Venezzia.

'Vooooi… Bastard… You made me do that when people could actually have come there and find us out…' The shark trash mumbled. His whole body had flowered with hickeys and he could barely stand up, so he contented himself with just lying on the bed and hiding his face in the pillows.

'It wasn't like someone really came there. You're making a big deal of nothing…' I retorted. Seeing him that embarrassed was also one of my darling sins, and I was in a good mood enough that morning (read afternoon) to put up with the shark's annoying voice.

'But they could have heard it from outside! Shit, I swear I'm not going out to drink with you for the rest of my fucking life!'

But last night you surely did like it, I wanted to say but I didn't. I knew it would have made the shark shut it until oblivion so I didn't. But I couldn't help but being roguish at him sometimes.

'So. Where are we going to eat today?' I mused and gladly waited for the answer. Squalo trembled beneath the sheets.

'Stupid Boss. Guess I have to cook.'

* * *

crocchetta : meatball

galina : fowl

venditore ambulante : hawker

prosciutto : ham

formaggio : cheese

Comprende, voi?: You got it?

Signore...Scusa… Ma per il prezzo: Sir... excuse me... but for the price

figlio di putana : son of a bitch

Delizioso supplica: delightful plea

Donnaccia: bitch

To Be Continued... Serously I don't know when... (T.T)


	3. March Pioggia

Hey next chapter up! This one really is the only story I can write without getting a headhache... Hope you'll enjoy!

Oh and for precision, the all thing is happening in MARCH (that is, because, I firstly wanted it to happen simultanously with Venice's Carnival, but I didn't have enough time to do so)

* * *

'Hey. There're too much people. Let's go back.'

We've left the _Getto_ and were walking along the _Canałasso_. I already knew we were in times of festivities, but I sincerely didn't think there would be that much tourists strolling here and there; the best was that I fucking didn't know what they were looking for. Oh, right. There were a ridiculous amount of souvenirs shops and side walk stands. They were so numerous I had no idea how they were doing not to go bankrupt. There you have those fucking gondola, too, with their fucking gondoliers. Holy fuck I swear I had been on the point of shooting one of them when he started to literally steer us around in circles in those goddamn canals, as if we were some of those brainless tourists he used to trick. There would also be some funny odd men wearing tasteless outfits and masks, or stupid women walking around with the same weird masks and weirder dresses, then everyone would show off and fill the already constricted _strada_.

And I'm going over the shittiest things.

Our target hadn't shown up yet. It had left us with only two solutions: whether chasing after him like good dogs, whether waiting for him to willingly show up. However if we had to choose the second option, it would have take months and months and I wasn't – I'm not – a patient geez. Though at that time I was feeling playful. I still hadn't forgotten the injure the Prodi trash had inflicted me, and it would have been particularly delightful to show him my gratefulness with the best present I had thought about. I decided on smoke out the fox's burrow until asphyxia.

That was why all we had been doing the last days had been cutting off small dealers, cheap prostitutes and barmen of ill repute, slaughtering one or two of Venice's officials linked with the _famiglia_, and bursting some warehouses. Maybe the Vongola wouldn't appreciate it, but it was their fault to give me such precise consigns as "taking down all of the Vongola's enemies who had been involved with the Prodi's _famiglia_, starting from the boss himself." Orders clear and unambiguous.

'Voooi, stupid boss! if you didn't want to go sightseeing, why did we have to go to those places? I'm fed up with you complaining each second for the smallest shit!' Squalo shouted. That man really doesn't know the meaning of the words "talking quietly".

'Shut up, scum. Your voice is giving me a headache.' I rubbed at my forehead as a migraine was slowly reaching it. Did that day actually have to be as fucking annoying as every day? That morning, still, it wasn't like that, not yet.

As I nagged enough for the silver haired man to stop bringing the shitty food he found in the _getto,_ and threatened him enough for us not to go to some fucking restaurants again ('Why?' – 'Scums don't have to know why') unless he wanted to eat his food with a straw for the rest of his life, it had constrained him to cook all of our meals.

At the first time, the silver trash complained; he complained like a bitch. It was mostly a lot of cursing, shouts like "Where the fuck is the pecorino? – The hell! I've run off of tomatoes! – Vooi. There's no more meat! – How the heck did you eat all of that by yourself?". But at last he quieted (Who wouldn't with a gun pointed behind their head, willingly ready to burst their brains out?).

And that was the biggest surprise: the shark trash was actually a _good_ cooker, as good as the other fag (Lussuria), or maybe better. Of course I would never _ever_ admit that to the one or the other. The food wasn't elaborated, at first it wasn't even alluring – it was like a heap of unknown fuming object. I remember staring incredulously at the shark's face downcast by three hours of incessant fight against the stove, and then at the fuming object in front of me. I also remember saying something like 'Fuck off, trash' and being on the point of throwing the dish at the swordsman, but I didn't. Back then I was truly hopeless on finding an acceptable meal in the whole damn town.

Finally I accepted to take a bite, but fuck! The unknown object (actually that was _bottarga_) was great (in spite of the fact it was fish). The whole thing was looking like shit, but at least it was tasteful. The next day, too (that day had been _carpaccio_), and then next one. The aspect still was the shittiest possible, but that was better than any food I ate since we came in Venice.

The next day, though, the silverette ranted. 'Vooi, boss. I'm fed up with this shit! Why do I always have to cook for you? That's fucking annoying, you know, to be constantly standing and whether cutting or peeling whether frying or boiling something while all you're doing is lying around. I'm not your fucking slave!'

'Che. You're starting to sound like a fucking woman.'

'I'm not, you damn bastard!' He yelled louder. 'Doing this day after day is truly frustrating. Right now I'm supposed to run after the other scum, not fucking kindly playing your wife here!'

'It's a relief you're not. If you were my wife I'd have left you earlier.'

'The fuck? That's why I say you're a stupid boss! Who would ever… Fuck!'

Then he ran to the boiling pan which had started to overflow over the cooker, emitting a burnt smell. Good. That night was _scallopini_.

* * *

The following day we were off on work in one of the numerous hovels of the floating city. Rumors said there were some of the most faithful men of the Prodis.

The place was only like another house of Venice, jammed between two others buildings, a _canale_ facing it. The shark came by the roof: there was only one entrance to the den, and surely guards would have been posted before it, we would have been fired at like dead puppets if we had got the silliness to attack from the front. Squalo didn't dawdle. Sneaking by a fractured window, he went in. I just stayed outside. That range of trash wasn't something to bother me for, that's why the shark was there. Soon after he came in, I heard dull sounds of punches, broken bones and all glasses. Obviously using guns was bad. Unlike last time in the Prodis' headquarters, we were in the town center; gathering policemen by gunshots would have been bad. That was one nice side of the blade.

Three minutes later he was already back for the report.

As we had expected, the head wasn't there, only few of his comrades; but the trip wasn't that bad either as he found out another of their haunts.

'… Sooo, boss. _E dopo_? It's already evening. Do we continue on hunting them for today?' The shark yawned while stretching his arms. 'If we go now, it would reduce the number of areas still not cleared.'

I glared at him. 'Aaa? Are you stupid? You scum have to prepare my dinner. Have you forgotten about that?'

The silver haired swordsman watched at me with bloodshot eyes. 'Vooi' He hissed dreadfully. 'How long are we going to keep on that? I said I'm fucking tired of fucking cooking for you, you fucking scumbag! Just give it up and let's go to a restaurant already, fuck it, Xanxus!'

I locked my gun on his temple. 'And I said don't you fucking talk about eating out anymore, trash.'

'In that case can I fucking ask you why?' he burst.

'Because you're an idiot (and the world is full with shitty skirt chasers – in my case loud-mouthed and long silver haired idiots-chasers, I wanted to say). Let's get down before someone hears your damn bitchery.'

I pulled on the white mane, earning more and more whining, and turned back.

That was how we ended in the previous situation.

Fortunately, we were wearing casual clothes (in fact we didn't want to attract the Prodis' attention with our Varia uniforms, though our features were already standing out like hell). Squalo had brought his sword in one of those kind of big tubes painters use to put painting in, so we could melt in the crowd of vacationers.

'And for the fucking last time, we aren't sightseeing. We're here because you're a stupid bitch, because I want _granita_, and because I'm tired of fucking you in restaurants' toilets.' Squalo turned red. I smirked and took the shark's chin between two fingers. 'Or do you prefer to do that there? I admit your mouth was pretty greedy at that time.'

'Sh-shut up, asshole!' The swordsman was shuddering. Stupid proud shark. 'I was dead drunk. As if I would do such things when I'm sober…'

That's so easy to turn that man on, I pondered whilst nearing my face to the one with feral grey eyes. 'Huh? So you're telling me to get you drunk?' I whispered in a reddened ear. 'That wouldn't be difficult, too, with your low alcohol sustaining tendency.'

'Shut it, I said! That part of your personality really is fucking bothersome! Always bossing people around like a fucking… Mmh!' He quieted when I crushed my lips on his, right in the middle of the crowd. That was sure the best way ever to make the shark trash shut for a while. After few seconds, he gasped for breath 'Ah! Fuck off, Xanxus! How many people do you think c- Aan… See us right… Mm… Now… Hn…'

That's how Squalo is: constantly bitching and whining about everything, but in the end, he always gives in, like a little prude whore. His mouth was without doubt appealing, always so wet, so soft, so hot. It made me remind in a flash one of the previous day's memories, with the silver head between my thighs, bobbing swiftly, smoothly … I pulled the shark trash's waist closer, searching for that warmth again, but then:

_Snap!_

I heard a photosnap along with a bright lightning. We rapidly turned to the intruders, eyebrows furrowed and eyes sending flames.

'Iyaa. They sure are cute, nee papa?' A mid-aged woman with a photo camera said to her husband beside her, a bold geezer with thick framed glasses. They both were wearing Bermudas and caps. Judging by their features and their accent, I guessed they were Japanese. 'It reminds me on our young ages, do you remember? When we met at high school…'

'Iie iie, kaa-chan. Don't you remember? I was so shy I couldn't even say a single word in front of you… Aah! Memories from the past… Be sure to treasure them deeply in your heart, youngsters…'

'Voi.' Squalo hissed.

'Hey, stupid old farts.' I echoed.

'Just die here and now and leave the fuck of us alone!' We roared with anger, Squalo with slight embarrassment.

I didn't have to pull my guns out at the couple as they ran away right after hearing the cursing.

'Che. Useless trashes. Hey, trash, we're moving on.' I yanked at the shark, but instead of the tip of his hair, I grabbed at his wrist (which was, I swear it, a regrettable accident that will never occur again, or at least never out of a bed, or a couch, or anywhere else where I can fuck the life out of the shark). Squalo, like a good doggie, followed me without protesting, his pace shadowing mine.

At last, wandering quietly in an evening Venice with the silver haired trash wasn't that bad, particularly when you're eating a lemon _granita_ drowned with margarita.

'Voi, Xanxus.' I knew it, I knew he wouldn't – he couldn't – stay quiet for so much time. 'It's going to rain.'

I looked up. The sky was indeed clouding, some parts were even lighting up from time to time, and at each time it was followed by a rumbling thunder.

'So, what are you doing? Are we going back home?' he asked, his face and voice more peaceful than usually.

As a droplet made contact with my forehead, I pondered on how we would be able to reach home without getting drenched to the bones.

'Shit, that was why I hate going out.' I stated. 'We're moving forward trash, unless you want to be taken away by the flood.'

He kept our pace through the piazza.

* * *

Rain finally came. It was thin and cold, a real March rain. We were waiting for the drizzle to end under the entrance of a church – I don't remember its name, there were so numerous I don't even know how people manage to remember all of them, plus they're all alike. So back to my story, we were waiting, sitting on one of the back bench, both silenced – a rare thing indeed – and with nothing else to hear and to see but the downpouring rain. The church, unlike to the others, wasn't that full of people; moreover when we came in there wasn't anyone anymore.

I sighed. Until when was that fucking rain going to pour? That was boring and I was growing hungry. I cast a glimpse at my side where Squalo was sitting: the swordsman was nothing irritated nor bothered. On the contrary, he seemed calmer than earlier, watching at the rain with dull eyes, face resting on his hand. _Quiete_. Minutes earlier, he slipped into a puddle (I confess I kicked him down for annoying me for some matter I can't recall anymore), which damped all his clothes and hair. And I was regretting the act.

I was regretting it since I was at that moment witnessing one of the sexiest sight I've ever seen in my life: a melancholic Squalo, beautiful silver hair stuck almost everywhere on his arms, his cheeks, his neck; grey orbs filled with tedium and with only sign of life a tiny glow sparkling toward some place, somewhere. Then under that perfectly purified chin connected to a statuary throat, droplets of rain were falling on a slender, pinkish torso barely hidden by a wet white shirt.

And that was right beside me. No one else around to hinder me from taking possession of that godlike body and fuck it right on the post, hearing for the interminable moaning, bruising that rosy skin, claiming for each part of him…

'Voi, boss.' The shark trash's voice suddenly woke me up from my daydreaming. I didn't notice he was (since when?) watching at me with an interrogative expression. Shit. Did I make a stupid face? Gradually, the interrogative eyes lost their dubious look, and slowly cracked to become fox's like. A lustful grin stretched his lips. 'Wanna do it?'

No more invitation needed. I swiftly took hold of the damped hair and pulled their owner toward me, standing up and crushing our lips together in the process. I dragged the shark to some distant corner, deeper in the nave, to find a deserted confessional. The confessor's cabin was isolated from the outside only by a black curtain. Fuck it, it will make it, I thought whilst throwing the impatient shark in.

'_Scopata_.'

That day sex for sure had been great. I was sitting on the confessor's place; Squalo was straddling me, grinding sinfully against me. The tempting nape that had been enticing me since our arrival, I bit it; the skinny waist that was waving in front of me, I scratched it; the distant eyes that were watching far away, far into a place where I wasn't, I had them locked only at me, and all things were nice that way. Heat was bit by bit building up.

'Fucking shark… Your pants.'

The silverette started unbuckling nervously his belt before pulling his trousers down, but as the garment wouldn't be taken off, he had to stand up once. Flawlessly shaped legs were showed up when the cloth went off, as well as a raging erection. The sight took the best of me. I didn't give the shark time to take off his shirt and only hastily pulled him back on my lap, my own hard-on already freed from my jeans. Like that, without warning, I sheathed myself in the tight body, hard and roughly.

'Aa- yaa!' The silver trash moaned at the intrusion.

Without further ado I started pulling in and out of the still dry hole, my hands grasping at the shark's ass, forcing him to move at my rhythm. Soon after I was thrusting frantically in my right-hand man, savoring each time my cock went deep in before unsheathing itself again, leaving only the tip in the hot entrance. Squalo was breathing heavily, his hands resting on my shoulders and shaking knees sustaining his threadlike body. I assumed it did hurt like a bitch when I put it in – though, strangely, my mishandling never bothered the swordsman, on the contrary he always put up with it and kept on coming back to me.

I took a look at his face: there was plastered a mixture of want and pain, his grey eyes slightly teary, a frown of soreness contorting his eyebrows, a slight blush tainting his cheeks. His silvery mane was waving in measure with my thrusting, the bottom slapping his ass in the process.

_Reale festa di follia_.

'Aan… Xanxus… Move fa… Ah! faster… I'm still… I'm still…' He whimpered. Fucking masochist shark trash.

Fuck. That face he was making. I tugged his head closer and kissed him leisurely. My tongue slipped from his lips and went licking his throat, lashing on it, my teeth biting the pinky skin, bruising it, breaking it until a red hickey stained it. The shark only moaned louder and tightened his grip on my shoulders, but at the same time tilted his head aside for me to explore more of his neck. So I did.

Along with the frenetic pumping, I started trailing avid kisses on the silver haired man's nape, slowing moving down to the base of his throat, appreciating the beads of rain trickling from his silken hair. I cast my eyes down and smirked: the damped shirt sure wasn't hiding anything anymore as two erected nipples were shamelessly picking out on it. That's why I said the shark was too easily turned on. My mouth lingered down, next aiming for the little rosy buds. Simultaneously, my hands left his cheeks to trail beneath the wet shirt, on muscular abs and sweaty torso.

'Xan- Ah! Fuck…' Was Squalo's reaction at his nipples got bitten – that and his back arching nastily, only making me go deeper in him. I was biting through the garment, not even caring about removing it, yet the shark's responses still were that intense. 'Nnnh! Ah! There!... There, I feel it… Da-amn…'

He paused, but I didn't want him to. I then took a firmer grip on his ass; the shark whined louder however, very soon, he began moving up and down, alternatively taking in all my length in then releasing it, his movements more fluid than before.

The welcoming pressure on my arousal was maddening. Successively clenching and unclenching it, the shark kept his riding pace, ensuring that my shaft precisely hit _that_ spot in the hole moistened with my precum. I leered at the incoherent words Squalo was saying, altogether with the moaning/panting/groaning. At that point his body was wholly leaning on mine. Without tasting it, I could plainly scent the saltiness of his sweat along with the rain, which was marrying superbly with his hair, his skin, all of his body's smell.

Crap. I was near.

I pumped even faster, the shark following agreeably my pace and pushing exactly how I wanted him to. And I knew his was close to his limits too. All Squalo was capable of was to grab at anything he could find – curtain, chair's back, wall – to sustain himself.

'Aa… Damn good… Xanxus… So good… Comin'… _Non ne posso… più_…!'

I smirked. 'Debauched shark. Come for your Boss.'

Pushing the shark to his limits, maddening him more and more, bringing him near to insanity until everything left would only be a needy body, despairing to come with no rational thought in his mind, just an all consuming need to fuck. Those were all a delight for me.

As for the shark trash, he was losing it. The feeling of being widened from the inside, the feeling of my cock moving in and out, and then again in and out, continuously brushing again that spot of his. The thought of me spearing his tight ass and bringing him to bliss was too much for him to bear. He moaned and writhed, though he couldn't move as he liked with my balls fused to his butt.

His own member had since long started leaking, the hot liquid mixing with mine and slowly slicking his red entrance and dripping at the junction of his thighs.

'Comin'… Fuck, Xanxus… Com-… A-an… Aaaa!'

It didn't take much more time for him to spurt his semen all over our stomachs, whole body trembling and tightening as he reached orgasm, emitting a loud moaning when he came.

Outside it was raining in buckets.

At that instant, the pressure and the warmth on my cock was almost unbearable. I couldn't do anything but coming with a low grunt when I felt myself got squeezed like in a vice. I came, I came hard and brashly in the puckered ring of muscles, appreciating the sight of a blissful Squalo in front of me, my shaft still secured in him, dripping with our cum.

'Shark.' I finally grunted. 'Be sure to make _carpaccio_ tonight.'

My right hand man had his forehead resting on my shoulder, panting. That was one the rare moment he would openly show vulnerability, and also one of the rare moment I didn't have the urge to crash something at his head for doing so.

He shifted a bit, back still waving wildly from his jerky breath. 'So… Should I add gnocchi and lasagna with it?'

And that was also one of the very, extremely rare moments I sincerely did want to hug him fondly.

* * *

**_Strada_**: streets

**_Canale_** : canal

**_E dopo_**?: what next?

**_Quiete_**: silenced

**_Scopata_**: fuck

**_Reale festa di follia_**: real feast of madness

**_Non ne posso più_**: I can't take it anymore

* * *

So... did you like it? if you did, review please! Reviews are right now the only sunshine lightening my life T.T


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